


If I Only Could

by BlackTieCasual



Series: Semi-Canon Overwatch [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Bounty Hunter, Brainwashing, Brutal Murder, Drama, Drama & Romance, F/F, F/M, Fugitive, Medical Procedures, Medical Trauma, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Linear Narrative, Overwatch - Freeform, POV Female Character, Pain, Past Brainwashing, Past Relationship(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Drama, Psychological Trauma, Trauma, Western
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 11:27:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30105231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackTieCasual/pseuds/BlackTieCasual
Summary: In Part 2 of the BlackTieCasual Semi-Canon Overwatch Series, we take a step back and learn a bit about the origins of Amelie LaCroix.Taking place just after the murder of her husband, Gerard, Amelie is forced to live as a fugitive in the United States.Retired bounty hunter Calamity Ashe is forced by her Overwatch connection to search through her territory and find the missing assassin, at the threat of losing her untouchable status in the eyes of the international organization.'If I Only Could' is a prequel to my previous work, 'As Deep as the Ocean'. These two works are building up to a third, a culmination of both of their storylines, so stay tuned!
Relationships: Amelie LaCroix / Widowmaker | Gerard LaCroix, Elizabeth Caledonia Ashe | Jesse McCree
Series: Semi-Canon Overwatch [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2119581





	If I Only Could

The call jumps to life with the sound of a dozen blunt little beeps, rolling out in quick succession. It takes a few seconds for someone to pick up. A young man’s voice fizzles in, and he lets the caller know that they have reached emergency services. His voice is calm, but not unaware of how serious the situation could be. He is attentive as he inquires about the nature of the call.

For a moment, all that can be heard is the droning hum of the recording mechanism. In the absence of the operator’s voice, a romantic song begins to bleed into the recoding, something playing in the background of the caller’s silence. The operator, put off by this, asks with some audible concern if there is anyone there.

After a moment, a click can be heard and the music cuts out. Even, tempered footsteps just barely register on the microphone as someone approaches. By this point, typing can be heard on the operator’s end, writing up notes about the origin of the call. There is a protocol for silent callers, and he struggles for a moment to remember what to say next just before a woman’s voice answers him. He stops typing, and pays attention instead to the slurred and accented voice of the caller, her tone rehearsed and robotic. The statement is clearly rehearsed, unwavering despite its very serious implications. The man attempts to interrupt, but she keeps speaking.

“My name is Amelie LaCroix. I am confessing to the murder of Gerard LaCroix, which occurred only moments ago in room XX, on the XX floor of the XX Hotel in New York. Send police, it’s too late for an ambulance to be of any assistance.”

Sections of the call are censored by shrill beeps, leaving behind only the most essential information. This is the broadcast version, the version that gets posted online for the public to hear. A full recording exists somewhere, but its transcript has been written up and it will most likely never be heard again. This call was made three nights ago, and against all odds the woman in question managed to escape without being apprehended by the local authorities.

The man sitting across from me is an old business partner. He works for Overwatch now, having betrayed me years ago in search of a cleaner life. He has yet to reveal my information to the organization, but as far as I can tell he’ll never be trustworthy to me or his boss. I trace the edges of his shaggy brown hair, his scruff. He’s a suit without a suit, dressed like a desperado back in his old hometown. When I was his boss, everything about him was more authentic. Now, drawling to me about this ballerina, explaining how she murdered an Overwatch agent the same night she married him, I can’t take him seriously.

He says she’s made no effort to travel back to her native France, that she must be on the run in the United States. There’s been evidence found that puts her in the four corners states, my territory… Or at least it had been, before Jesse left the gang and it all went to shit. He wants me to skulk around my old stomping grounds, going from place to place and asking for tips on a French woman with long black hair in an expensive outfit. He knows it won’t be easy to find her, but he doesn’t need to pull up my career records as a bounty hunter to know that I’m up to the task.

I’m leaning back against the side panel of my rusty Challenger Hellcat, fingering the hilt of my handgun beneath my vest as he finishes he presentation. His eyes keep rushing down to my hips, to my holster. I’m making him nervous, but he’ll be in a mess of trouble if he takes me down now. He wishes he could fire pot shots at me, make me jump.

I ask if he wants to hire me, and he guesses correctly that I don’t know where she is. I shake my head and let a puff of smoke escape from my throat as I tap my foot. It’s not too late to hire me, just because I don’t have her hidden somewhere doesn’t mean I can’t find her. I know that’s his goal, that he’s giving me the chance to stay anonymous under Overwatch in exchange for Amelie LaCroix’s corpse. I tell him I understand it, but that we need to talk money.

He gives me a bigger number than I hoped for, and I cock an eyebrow as I take another drag. Why are you so dedicated to this? Worst case scenario is that she was some insider and this was the long con. He goes on to explain that he knows that’s not the case, that he suspects she’s been framed. Things fit together a little better after that, and I nod as I tell him I’ll take the money if he lets me carry it out alone.

He thinks it’s a bad idea, but he knows better than to cross me, even if I don’t necessarily have a choice in helping him.

He nods, a bit of a scowl running across his lips as the deal is made.


End file.
